Another Color
by Sentri
Summary: When a portal to the Otherworld is opened, how will the 13 Nations affected deal with the escape of their Parallels? To stop their counterparts, they must venture in Romania's mansion, toil through mazes and landscapes far from the realm of reality, and send the monsters back where they came from. Hetalia 2p, a bit like HetaOni but more 'fantasy/horror' than 'gory/horror'. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

Romania was creepy.

Not your common shade of creepy, either, but the real, deep creepy you only got in cults and death-metal concerts.

It was for this reason that Hungary wasn't surprised to find him calmly sipping his tea, watching two scorpions tear each other viciously apart in the confines of an old fish tank, when she burst in his front doors. "Romania!" she screeched, letting the doors slam shut behind her.

Without taking his eyes off the fighting bugs, he answered, "Yes?"

"When was the last time you checked on The Door?" Hungary felt yet another stab of pain claw through her stomach, and gritted her teeth to keep from wincing. Romania took a long sip of tea before finally setting the cup down on a nearby side table with a soft _chink_.

He stood and stretched, taking amusement in Hungary's quickly reddening face, before finally answering her question. Sort of. He cocked his head to the side innocently. "The Door?"

"Yes, _The Door_! What other door could I possibly be talking about?"

The auburn haired man shrugged. "I checked last night before I went to bed. Everything was fine, then," he replied. "You can check again if you don't believe me."

Hungary narrowed her eyes. "Of course I don't believe you," she muttered. He glared. "Now come on. Let's go make sure you haven't somehow ensured the destruction of the world."

She strode from the main hall, not waiting for Romania to lead her but knowing exactly where she was going regardless of this. The pain in her stomach increased steadily as she crossed the interconnected halls and nearly leaped down long flights of stone stairs. Romania scurried behind her, holding tightly to his cap.

When they finally reached the last staircase, the younger of the two was panting and clutching his chest. "Walk... slower..." he wheezed. The woman rolled her eyes. "Just give me the keys."

He began to limp down the stairs, toward the barred arch that served as the entryway to the dungeon. "Like I'd... trust you with my... keys," he scoffed and panted at the same time, smiling over his shoulder.

Hungary tapped her foot as Romania tried each different key in the heavy lock, going through more than half on the loop before finally the lock grudgingly clanged open. "Ladies first?"

She shoved her way through before Romania could make another idiotic comment. "Did you move it or something?" she asked impatiently when she found the first room empty.

Romania shook his head with a grimace. "It moves on its own. Creepy shit, that thing is... It must be in the back room."

A bit taken aback, Hungary allowed the other nation to take the lead this time. The dungeon generally smelled like damp, musty air and old bones, but nothing could mask the sharp smell of ozone The Door gave off. Walking through an arch that was, in comparison to the first, far smaller, the back room was lit with the shifting, iridescent colors that laced around the floating Door. First purple, then red, then orange, Romania watched the light shift over Hungary's pained face. Her right hand was clenched tightly around the cloth of her dress over her stomach.

"See?" he said matter of factly. "The Door's absolutely-"

_Bang!_ Romania flinched and turned. There was a deep scratch in the crimson wood that hadn't been there before. "What's that?" Hungary murmured.

_Bang! Bang!_ More scratches appeared, jagged and crisscrossing, some beginning to leak a yellow light. "Romania, is this normal?"

The trailing colors began to dance fervently around The Door. Shadows danced on the wall behind the two countries, silhouettes with no source, as the door began to give off a loud whirring sound. "Romania!"

"Calm down! Calm down! I'm sure this is totally normal!"

Another thump against the door and Hungary had fallen to her knees, hugging her stomach. The whirring grew to a near deafening shriek as the shadows lashed out with sinister claws. Romania rushed forward, gripping the chains around The Door and trying desperately to cover the cracks with the rest of his body. "Stop it! Stop it!" he shouted, as if yelling at it would end the chaos. The light coming from the cracks now was blinding, the room beginning to shake. "STOP!"

And suddenly everything was silent.

Hungary looked up, feeling the pain vanish immediately. Romania looked back at her, their eyes locking, and he stepped carefully away from The Door. "Is it... over?" he asked.

Hungary swallowed. "The lock," she whispered hoarsely. "Where did it go?"

Romania bit his lip, eyeing the bare patch beneath the knob where the lock had once been. Without any better response, he shook his head. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out to touch the handle.

The Door exploded into splinters.


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N: ** Hi, it's Sentri! Just wanted to tell my readers that I hope they enjoy the story! And just so you know, I update Saturdays, the chapters will get increasingly longer, and most of the German in this chapter is pretty straight forward but if you have any questions about it, just PM me. Ooh, ooh, also! Things can get kind of confusing in the later chapters, and I think you'll be fine in figuring it out, but just in case I'm always willing to explain. Thanks for reading, and godete~!_

* * *

It was sprinkling when the two woke outside the castle. Hungary was the first to open her eyes, greeted immediately with sharp pain to her head and a clenching stomach. She felt like she was going to vomit.

She was wary of standing, but was eventually able to pull herself stably to her feet with the help of one of the gargoyle-supporting pillars that bordered the front gate. Not knowing what else to do, she stood next to the stone pillar, breathing deeply and waiting for Romania to wake up. It did not take long.

Romania's eyes snapped open and his hands instantly flew to the top of his head to wrap around the hat that was still miraculously there. It was only after he assured that it was still clinging to his wet hair that he noticed the pounding headache currently making his ears ring. He blinked a couple times, then slowly pulled himself to his feet as Hungary had done. "Why am I here?" Romania asked. His lip curled in disgust, revealing a pointed tooth. "And with you?"

Swaying, Hungary shook her head. Her mind was foggy, but... wasn't there a light? And that screeching noise, and... Yes, she remembered it perfectly now.

"It was The Door," she answered groggily. "It... exploded, and there was this... laughing..."

Romania nodded, eyes blank. "Horrible laughing..." he agreed.

There was a moment of silence, which Hungary finally shattered in two words. "They're out," she murmured.

The two nations slowly shifted their gazes from the ground to the castle. The windows glowed with colored light: red, green, violet, cyan... There were more than this, but it hurt their heads too much to focus on the entire picture. Romania dragged himself to the gates and shook them vigorously. "They won't open, we need something stronger-"

"Why on Earth would you want to go in there anyway?" Hungary demanded, the volume of her own voice sending another stab of pain into her head. She lowered her voice substantially. "They're vicious. If we confront them at all, we can't do it alone."

Romania grimaced. He'd seen them once, when he'd helped to lock them up behind The Door. Needless to say, he was in no mood - nor would he ever be - to see them again.

"What do we do?" he asked, letting go of the bars tiredly.

"What else can we do?" Hungary said, finally giving up her hold on the pillar and letting herself sink to the ground and into the mud. "We have to tell the others."

* * *

"Germany, Germany!"

Almost instinctively, the tall German turned to glare at the owner of the shrill voice. Italy leaped up in front of him, his nose mere inches away from the other's, clearly never having heard of a 'personal bubble'. Following their usual routine, he sighed, "Yes? What is it, Italy?"

"My stomach hurts, ve," he pouted, hands over his belly.

Germany rolled his eyes, and he heard a loud sigh from behind him.

"It was probably just those stupid potatoes you were eating earlier. The potato bastard of yours can't cook worth a shit," Romano complained.

Germany stepped around Italy and continued walking. They'd be late if they delayed much longer, he thought, glancing at his watch for the fourth time that minute.

Meanwhile, Italy frowned. "No, it's not like that kind of hurt, _fratello_. It's like that time when you punched me in the belly, ve. Like my stomach is twisting around itself," he whimpered, staring curiously at his middle. "Germany, make it stop..."

"Hey, my stomach is starting to hurt, too..." Romano mumbled. Suddenly, his head jerked up to face Italy's. "You're contagious, you jerk!" he shouted. "Get the f*ck away from me, you're going to give me the German disease!"

What was most pathetic, Germany decided as the two burst into frantic shouts and 've's', was that the older of the twins had sounded entirely serious.

Up ahead, Austria's mansion rose, familiar and enormous, on the crest of a small hill. The dirt path was flanked by tall grass, and cut off abruptly at the large iron gates surrounding the building.

Usually a world meeting would have been held in some sort of large conference rooms, with whiteboards and nearby hotels and the like, but this one had been called on such short notice they'd had to improvise. They'd got the call only three hours ago, and it had taken a painful amount of meeting cancelations to get them to this World Conference at the right time, and even then they'd barely make it.

But Hungary had said it was urgent. So cancel he had.

It was a human servant that answered the door, clearly one of Austria's own. "Eh... Are you here for ze... Eh, Vorld Meeting?" she sounded out, blushing at her own prominent accent.

"_Ja_," he answered. She smiled, relieved at the presence of another German, and opened the gate.

"_Willkommen_!" she greeted, extending an arm toward the mansion.

Germany nodded. "_Danke_," he responded, and led the two mystified Italians in after him. The road was stone, now, and led straight up to the heavy front door that was guarded by an older man. Like the first servant, German was clearly his native tongue, and he welcomed the group in with a heavy accent.

"Austria's house is so pretty, ve!" Italy exclaimed. Inside the Main Hall, which, judging by the multitude of long tables and plastic chairs, would be where they'd have the meeting, most of the nations had managed to make the meeting. A couple, like Mexico and that one brother of America's, seemed to be missing, but besides this it seemed everyone had made it and were now milling about in anxious groups. Beside him, Italy turned to give a breezy smile at Germany before running off to greet his former boss. Austria responded to Italy's sudden hug with a surprised flinch, which he followed with an awkward pat on the back.

Romano had stalked off to yell at Spain for bringing one of his turtles, and, as usual, Germany was left alone. He shuffled on his feet for a moment, putting his hands in his pockets, then taking them out. He checked his watch - two minutes until the meeting would actually start - and finally decided to just wait in his seat until everyone was organized. Thankfully, Hungary could evoke some respect in the other nations, and the room grew quiet as she took a few steps up the grand staircase.

Germany watched intently as everyone moved to their own designated seats, all orderly for fear of attracting the female nation's unwanted attention. Curiously enough, Romania had followed her up the stairs, and neither had begun any sort of argument yet. The matter must have been as urgent as Hungary had said. The blonde nation felt a twinge of what might have been apprehension in his stomach.

Hungary cleared her throat and began. "Is everyone here that is coming?" she called out loudly. No one responded, so she took it as agreement. "I'm aware that I've called this meeting on very short notice, and though I apologize for any trouble it may have caused, I cannot stress how important it is for you to be here now. Some of you, excluding the youngest of our nations, will likely remember this topic, and if you do I hope you'll help me to explain it to those who have not experienced it themselves." She paused to swallow and take a breath. "More than 500 years ago, all nations existing at the time engaged in a fierce, bloody battle, later referred to as The War of the Border."

All chattering died down. There were a couple muffled gasps. Hungary continued gravely.

"This battle was unlike any other. We did not face a natural enemy, but some sort of otherworldly beings. Their purpose was unknown, only that their goal was to destroy all nations. Far from normal soldiers, these enemies fought alone, and were physically similar to us - so similar, in fact, that they could have been mistaken for us, and we them. These parallel nations were able to kill us as if we were humans, and were unaffected by the attacks of our soldiers. Only we nations could give the fatal blow.

"At the end of this gory battle, we trapped them in their own world, containing the portal in what we still refer to as 'The Door'. Since then they have remained quiet, and have not exercised their connections with us in any alarming way. Until now. Fellow countries, the Parallel Nations have returned."

Hungary lowered her eyes to the stairs, listening as the others took in the news. She wrung her apron nervously and stepped back to allow Romania to continue for her as murmuring began to rise up loudly. Hungary sat down tiredly at the foot of the stairs.

"As those who remember the War of the Borders know," Romania announced, "the connections to the Parallel Nations could be felt through certain ailments, particularly twisting stomachs and sharp headaches depending on the strength and proximity of your particular Parallel. These symptoms last only a couple days after these Nations have truly entered our world, but we now wish to use them to our advantage. In the first war, there were three Nations - Rome, Germania, and Brittania - that had to fight against their doubles. It was a gory battle then, but if we are lucky there will be fewer doubles this second time around.

"We now ask all those who are feeling these mentioned symptoms - even slightly - to stand up now, and-"

Romania made a sharp intake of breath, cutting off in horror as thirteen Nations rose from their seats, one by one.


	3. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**__ So I added an early one ^_^ This one's really short compared to most of the others, so sorry about that, but good news! Next chapter... Parallel point of view! __**Yayyy! **__ Okay maybe I'm getting a little over-excited about this, but I haven't slept in two days so don't judge me O_O But anyway, stick around, I think you'll like it! And to answer my amazing reviewers - even if they never asked any actual questions:_

_**Guest:**__ I'm glad you like it! This chapter's kind of short, but I'm real proud of the next one!_

_**Aprincessb1215:**__ Thanks! And now here they are..._

* * *

Britain, Japan, Canada, Russia, China, France, Italy, Germany, Romano, Hungary, Prussia, Spain, and him. America hadn't been around for the 'War of the Borders' or whatever, but that seemed like a lot. On the stairs, Romania spluttered. "Eh, I - we - I think we need to... Erm, okay." He took a deep breath. "I'd like all who participated in the War of the Borders and everyone experiencing these symptoms to follow Hungary and me. The rest can either leave or remain down here, but other than that there's really nothing you can do. Just, um, uh -"

"Just stay out of our way, yeah? Come on," Hungary interrupted impatiently. Romania huffed, but watched the nations comply to directions without complaint. America had to admit, his stomach did hurt kind of. But it was nothing the Hero couldn't handle. Canada, Italy, and Britain on the other hand were pale and nearly shaking as they began to climb the stairs after Hungary. Bored, he began to watch the expressions of the others. Japan looked kind of pale, too, but he was trying not to show it. Germany was stoic, as usual. Romano just looked pi**ed off. Everyone else seemed generally pained or bored.

"Hey, dude!" Three heads turned, but it was Japan that America rushed up to. "Whassup?"

"Oh, America-chan. Hello. You are pained, too?"

"Yeah, but it's no biggie. Nothing I can't handle, of course," he answered loudly, his voice rising volumes over the murmurs of the others.

"That is fortunate. In the last war, the more pain one was in seemed to have a connection with the strength of one's parallel self. It seems your friend Britain may be in for quite a fight, if I am correct." Japan gave the nation a worried look as he lurched up another stair.

"Probably just his cooking he's feeling," America laughed. Japan just grimaced, though it went entirely unnoticed by his taller friend. "Dude, since when were these stairs so friggin' long?"

"There have been no recent renovations to my knowledge." America stared at him blankly. "They're as long as always," Japan corrected himself.

"Oh."

The group walked up the rest of the staircase in near silence, holding it even after Romania had led them into a large sitting room and shut the door behind them. Hungary twisted her dress anxiously, and finally called out unsurely, "So, okay, past fighters in the war to the right side, people feeling the symptoms on the other. If you're both, follow the nations with the symp-"

"Hey who made you the leader! Why not the Awesome Me, eh?"

"Prussia I swear if you don't shut your mouth right now I'm going to kick your ass into next week!" Hungary snarled. Prussia dropped to the couch seat, pouting with his cheeks tinged red. "Now, I'd like you to raise your hand based on the level of pain you feel, one being almost nothing, and five being Hell. One?"

Russia, France, and Romano raised their hands.

Hungary nodded to Romania to write it down. He rushed to a side table and began to paw around through its contents before procuring a pad of paper and a pen, scribbling on the names with his tongue peeking out from the side of his mouth.

"Two?"

America raised his hand proudly, China following.

"Three?"

Spain and Prussia raised their hands. Hungary thought it over for a moment before raising her hand, too.

"Four?"

Germany and Japan. Romania scribbled it down.

"Five?"

Britain, Canada, and Italy raised shaking hands.

From the other side of the room, those who had been through the war were murmuring worriedly and beginning to talk amongst themselves. "Well, okay then," Hungary sighed, frowning worriedly. "We're going to have a conference, but unless you're feeling a 'one', I don't want you to participate. We'll wait for the pain to reach its peak and die down, probably sometime tomorrow morning, before we confront this physically. It's best if you try to get some sleep, now. You have a long night ahead."

Hungary turned and left for the other side of the room where Romania was already starting to gather the other Nations. Night had just fallen outside, though it was probably only around seven.

With nothing better to do than heed Hungary's advice, Canada had begun to crawl over to the wall that France was leaning up against. He scooted closer to his old boss, but cringed as a wave of pain crashed through both his stomach and head. France simply pulled him the rest of the way and put a sympathetic arm around his shoulders, for once not looking as if he were mentally undressing the object of his attention.

America would have gone to comfort Britain, but his former boss just so happened to be a condescending jerk-wad when he was in pain. Or drunk. Or sober, really. So instead he just watched the blonde Nation curl up on a long couch, shoving a pillow over his face and yelling insults at anyone who came too close. America sighed.

Meanwhile, Italy, Germany, and Japan had claimed an entire corner of the room for themselves. All three had claimed to feel the higher numbers, and it was beginning to show even among the two strongest of the group.

"Does this mean we're staying here overnight?" Germany asked gruffly. He was sitting in the very point of the corner, facing the opposite corner of the room on a perfect diagonal. Italy leaned up against him, whimpering, and promptly fell into his lap at the sound of his slightly-too-loud voice. Japan sat on his other side, a grimace fixed on his face, though he tried to hide it.

"I believe so, Germany-san."

"I guess I'd better cancel the rest of my meetings…" The annoyance in his voice was almost tangible. He shuffled in his seat as he attempted to pull out his cell phone, but Japan put a hand on the Nation's arm to stop him.

"I think your leader will understand. Get some rest before the pain grows too much."

Germany paused, then gave a slight smile. "I… I guess. Thank you, then. I will."

Japan returned the smile, but it disappeared quickly as Italy gave a yelp of pain. The brunette grimaced before giving a weak laugh. "Yay, sleepover…" he murmured, and passed out on Germany's lap.


	4. Chapter 3

The group watched in silence as the man and woman outside the gates woke up, argued, and eventually left. The rain poured down with the sound of a waterfall, the sound masking all others, before one of them finally stood and stretched. "It seems like it's time to get started," he said in a light British accent, his voice slightly raspy with disuse. "Is everyone ready?"  
The rest slowly got up at their own pace, stretching limbs sore from their time spent motionlessly staring out the window. "Of course we're ready, we've been waiting for near five hundred years," scoffed a Chinese man with long, dark hair. "Though we should have started working on the Dreamscapes a long time ago…"  
Next to him, his younger brother nodded, but said nothing.  
"Well, I claim this room," the man who had spoken first shrugged.  
"Front hall!" another one called out.  
"Kitchen!"  
"Dungeon."  
"Hey, I want the dungeon!"  
"Well you're not getting it," the brown haired man said, smiling.  
The younger of the two shuddered, and didn't press the matter.  
"Figure it out somewhere else," said the British man. "I'm getting started, and those of you who don't want to be trapped in an eternity of Hellish nightmares ought to find a better place to argue."  
"You're working alone, Arthur?" a man with long blonde hair asked curiously.  
"Yes, it seems Alfred wanted to have a little fun on his own, for once." Alfred, who was standing next to him, smiled widely, dark red hair falling into his eyes. "Maybe next time, though."  
The blonde man nodded in understanding, then turned to a younger boy next to him. "Shall we go, then, Matthew?"  
"Wait," he replied. He raised his hand like a child at school, looking innocently at Arthur. "So, are we supposed to kill them, or… Drive them crazy…?Or what?" he asked, confusion and eagerness mixed oddly on his face.  
"As long as you've exterminated them before they leave your room it doesn't really matter what you do," he answered, earning a wide smile from Matthew that exposed his pointed teeth. "Just remember, they can get rid of you as easily as you can be rid of them."  
"So don't get stupid," the Chinese man muttered. Again, his brother nodded, but said nothing.  
"Okay! Come on, Francis," Matthew chirped, grabbing the blonde man's hand and leading him away from the group. The Parallels watched them disappear down the hallway, Matthew jumping about eagerly and Francis following tiredly after, before joining partners and friends and beginning to search for a part of the castle that would fit their liking, too.  
The castle the Parallels had been released into was spacious and excellent for satisfying their needs. True, it would never be as good as the forest the previous Parallels had escaped to, but they had no time to find any better place. This time around, the other Nations would likely be more prepared for them, and it wouldn't do to waste time.  
Francis entered the Front Hall that Matthew had claimed cautiously. His friend could be a little crazy when he got too happy, and this was one of those moments where he was _definitely_ too happy. Thankfully, Matthew seemed to be expressing his joy at the moment by throwing pieces of unnecessary furniture at the tapestries on the walls. He turned around when he heard the other Parallel Nation enter the room. "What _are _you doing?" Francis asked tiredly.  
Matthew shrugged, a thoughtful smile on his face. "This stuff on the walls is really ugly, and it'll probably get in the way of my Dreamscape anyway." He chucked another table at the wall, grunting as he did. "So I'm taking it down." The dark painting crashed to the ground, becoming a mere pile of splinters on impact.

Francis nodded skeptically, but instead of responding just crossed the room to sit on one of the large chairs by the fireplace. For some reason there was a large fish tank on the table between the two chairs. There were two scorpions in it, both dead, having stabbed each other simultaneously with their stingers. He picked up the table himself and moved it far away from the sitting area, then returned to light the fire. By the time it was flickering in the hearth, Matthew had finished clearing all the pictures and rugs off the walls, and the room was in ruins. All except for Francis` little sitting area. Matthew strode over to him. "You want me to leave it?" he said, a whine creeping into his voice.  
Francis gave a tiny, rare smile. "Why not?" he proposed.

Matthew tilted his head, thinking. "Okay," he shrugged. He rolled the new aches out of his shoulders, and began to walk toward the middle of the room. "I'm going to get started then, okay?"

Francis gave him a concerned look. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"Do what?" the younger blonde answered.

"This whole... dreamscape, thing. You can just kill him and get it over with, make sure he goes down without taking you with him. No need to drive him mad if he'll end up dead anyway."

Matthew brushed his hair out of his eyes and put his arms out in front of him, preparing to begin his creation. Without looking back at his friend, he laughed. "And where's the fun in that, eh?"

For the third time in an hour, Romania found himself jerking awake at a nudge from Lithuania. "Wha-?"

"_Shhh_!"

Lithuania turned back to face Norway, who was still droning on about some sort of parallel magic, getting deep into the 'science' of it all. The Parallel Nations were a topic that Norway, Britain, and Romania had all studied extensively, hence the responsibility of watching over The Door being given to Romania. Though Norway knew the most about them, Romania had lived in a more secluded area and rarely got into fights, so the other Nations had agreed to have the portal watched over by the more neutral of the three countries. It was usually an interesting topic, but at such early hours, a lot of things could lose their shine. By this point, Romania could have cared less.

His eyes swiveled around the darkened room. The clock on the wall said that it was three in the morning, though it seemed much later than that. The lights had dimmed over time, and now cast an orangish glow over the conversing Nations. On the far side of the room, the other light had been turned off, and the afflicted countries could be heard breathing loudly, deep in the arms of sleep. There was a light knock on the door that cut Norway off in the middle of explaining the term 'Dreamscape'.

Finland stood to get it, and pulled open the door to reveal Hungary, though Romania had never noticed her leave. "We brought coffee," she said airily, a yawn at the edge of her voice. She held a tray laden with coffee, tea, and the like. Austria followed behind her carrying a similar tray, and set it down in the middle of the circle of Nations. "There's enough for everyone, so just dig in."

The smile on her face was tired but genuine as the Nations each grabbed for the caffeinated drinks. Sweden grabbed two, and handed one of the teas to Finland as he sat back down on his cushion, who gave a wary smile as he took it.

"So what are we at?" Hungary asked, plopping down into a cushion of her own.

"Dreamscapes," Denmark answered boredly.

"Speaking of which," Austria picked up the sentence. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she answered, barely suppressing another yawn. "Besides, I was there when The Door opened, and I plan to be there when it closes. I need to know everything I can to do that."

Austria knew he wouldn't get anymore out of her than that, and dropped the subject.

"So as I was saying," Norway went on, taking a quick sip of coffee, "In the last war, the Parallel's morphed the forests they'd inhabited to a place called a Dreamscape. It was something akin to a hallucination, however the entrapped could actually be affected by it's contents. It cost tremendous power for the Parallel to create it, but they seemed to take some sort of sick enjoyment from watching their counterpart flail through it. I have no doubt that most of the affected will have to go through a horror such as this, so we have to warn them once they wake up."

Romania felt himself slipping again, even with the strong tea, and he had to pinch his arm to stay alert.

"The more time they had, the more confusing, the more _vile_ their creations could become," Norway continued. "I'd recommend we move in as soon as possible."

"The gates are locked-"

"And they'll unlock them as soon as their demands are satisfied. It's best to just do what they ask before fighting back to the greatest extent of your power, otherwise you'll just wear yourself out before the battle's even begun. Keep in mind, they want to play. But they want our side to play fair, even if they won't. Last time they'd only allow their counterparts and the natives of that country to enter the forest, and no others. So they'll likely only allow the affected Nations through this time around, too."

"Well, if that's what they want..." Romania began unsurely.

"Then it's what we'll do," Norway finished for him.

"When would you recommend we go in?"

"As soon as possible," he replied with conviction. "I'd say sunrise, if you could."

The group fell into silence, all murmurs stopped. "That's too early, though..." Lithuania murmured.

"The more you delay, the stronger they get," Norway warned, staring into his coffee. He took another gulp, and looked to Lithuania. "The symptoms the others feel will have faded by the time they awake. They'll be more than fully rested, and with luck" - he gave a pointed look to Austria - "fully armed?"

"Yes, of course," he answered, frowning a bit at the idea. "Although, Hungary, you claimed to have felt a 'three', and -"

"Austria, I've been through war upon war. I lived in the wild as a child and trained by experience. Failure was fatal. I've battled by your side and against it, I've defeated herds of both my and your enemies, I've fended off Nations and humans and beasts and every other breathing, living creature you can imagine. I'm not just your housemaid, Austria." She gave him a determined smile. "I can handle a lot more than this."

He simply stared at her, wide-eyed, and nodded.

Norway clapped his hands together sharply, breaking the long silence. "Seems like it's settled then. We leave at sunrise and purge the castle before noon." He stood up, hands over his head in a stretch.

"Well, I'll start on breakfast," Hungary said.

"I'll handle it." Turkey, silent for most of the meeting, stopped her. "Just go to bed, okay?"

She smiled gratefully, and shuffled over to the darker side of the room. Turkey gathered a few other Nations with him and headed down to the kitchen, leaving only a few Nations awake in the room: Austria, Switzerland, and Norway.

"When should we wake them up?" Austria moved to stand next to Norway.

"Soon. A couple of hours, at most," he answered quietly.

"Ah." Austria looked thoughtful for a second before turning back to face Norway. "How do you think this will turn out?" he murmured.

He shrugged. "I've heard people say that 'cheaters never win'," he answered noncommittally. Austria's shoulders slumped a bit with relief. "But I've also seen those same people fall dead in their first uphill battle."

Norway set his coffee cup down, finished, and strode away to find a place to sleep, leaving an open-mouthed Austria to stare wordlessly after him.


	5. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**__ Well, here we go, guys! Into the mansion... No new reviews to answer (that I know of), so I guess I'll just get right into it. Tell me what you think~!_

_**PS**__ Little warning, this chapter gets kind of hectic, so just PM or review if you need any clarification..._

* * *

The weight of throwing knives at Canada's belt was entirely foreign, however France had insisted he bring something besides a hockey stick to fight off the hoard of vicious super-human Parallels.

The sun was halfway risen on the horizon, and the thirteen Nations walked down the semi-lit dirt path in near silence. The only sound was the clanking of weapons and that of the thin armor that a few of the group had been able to find in Austria's armory. As much as he hated the feel of cold metal against his waist, Canada had to admit that carrying sharp objects had a pleasant effect - he hadn't heard one 'Who are you?' since they'd left the mansion a few hours prior.

By now the scenary had changed to the spiny bushes and thin trees of Romania's homeland, and the towns had thinned out to the occasional cottage alongside the dirt road. Beside him, France fingered the sword at his side, grinning slightly. Clearly he wasn't taking this as seriously as the others, who were all walking in stony silence. Or maybe he was. His old boss wasn't always as open as the other countries seemed to think.

For nearly the first time, a low voice broke into the silence. It was Romania's. "I think I can see it, up ahead," squinting at the spires that were beginning to rise against the thick green of the forest. "And a fair warning: there's a decent chance some of their magic will extend a bit past the castle, too, so be careful."

"What does that even mean?" Britain muttered, arms crossed as usual.

"It means you're going to feel it once you get too close..." Romania replied.

The blonde Nation only grunted in response.

Tearing his eyes from the two blank-faced Nations, Canada again began to watch the approaching castle with a feeling of rising apprehension. He'd heard Japan mention something about his own Parallel being particularly strong. He'd never been much of a fighter, and he probably couldn't have even gained his independence if it weren't for America helping him in his war against France... But Japan had been wrong before - well, never in Canada's recollection, actually - but he was sure the ancient Nation had had a slip up at _some_ point in his life.

It was then that they hit the barrier. Canada felt his insides clench as if someone had grabbed him from the inside, and he gave a choked gasp. Then the feeling faded as quickly as it had come. Romania glanced at the suddenly wheezing group and nodded. "Yep, that would be the magic."

"What the hell was that?!" Prussia panted, glaring.

Romania shrugged. "Some say it's the Parallel's auras. I think it's just residue left over from the Dreamscapes."

Prussia responded with a look of confusion. "Right," he muttered, and went back to watching the castle for any signs of life. The windows gave off a slight colored glow, but besides this not even the wind seemed to move.

With each footstep, Canada could almost feel himself growing closer to the wrought iron gates. Closer to someone - some_thing_ so physically and mentally alike to him that their lives had been connected by the universe long before they'd known of each other's existence. And, one way or the other, one of them would die. He could have been walking towards his own death, and yet...

Without thinking he had begun rubbing the maple leaf someone - he assumed it was France - had drawn on his hand overnight in black ink. How could he feel so calm? So... safe?

And suddenly, they were on the stairs before the gate. Without any verbal agreement, they had all stopped before touching the steps, and now waited almost eagerly to see who would make the first move. Looking around at the worried faces, Hungary took a deep breath. She took the first of the stairs, then the second, each slowly so on, until she was inches from the gate. Closing her eyes, Hungary grabbed one of the bars.

At first there was nothing, but as she opened her mouth to speak she felt something like ice shoot through her mind. She could feel it everywhere, freezing her down to her toes, though she instinctively knew it was only in her head. She was aware of someone speaking, with a voice as cold as a grave, and could just make out the words in her thoughts.

"_There is one among you who does not belong_," it hissed.

Hungary tried to respond, but couldn't move. Her hand was frozen to the gate, teeth clenched and mouth shut tightly. From the bottom of the stairs the other Nations watched, immobile with fear and awe.

The feeling of safety vanished quickly as Canada clung to his daggers. Hungary was still standing there, holding the bars of the gates, but her body had taken on a sickly blue glow. Her hair fluttered in a wind none of them could feel, rising from her back in waves. And worse still was her voice…

"_One among you has no match here_," she continued. Her voice had changed abruptly, violently. With each syllable, she sounded less like herself and more like something long dead climbing from the earth. "_Get rid of it_."

"Romania, I think it means you," Britain murmured. Romania, however, shook his head determinedly.

"I'm not leaving!" he shouted up at the mansion.

"Why the hell would you want to stay anyway-?" Britain began, but was cut off by the same, grating voice.

"_Get rid of it."_

Romania glared, but unsure where on the manor to focus it, eventually settled on glaring at Hungary instead. "What's wrong? Scared I won't play nice?" he shouted.

There was silence, then, furiously, "_We fear nothing!_"

A cyan spark crackled where Hungary's hand connected with the metal of the gate, and she was thrown backward into the crowd. Spain and Romano caught her on reflex, and lowered her quickly to the ground as the gates wheezed open, old rusty hinges protesting loudly until the gates had swung wide.

The sound was still ringing in Canada's ears when Russia made his way to the front of the throng of Nations. He turned to face them and gave a cheerful smile. "The mission is accomplished, then, da? Let us go."

With no other choice, the Nations followed Russia into the vibrant mansion.

* * *

"Why is it so... dark?"

"Don't you have windows, Romania?"

"I swear I can't see my bloody hand in front of my face!"

"Wait, wait, everyone stop!"

"Guys?"

"Germany, where are you?"

"France? Guys? France!"

Canada let his already low voice die down. "Guys?" he breathed. Not a sound stirred the dark room. He looked around, his eyes beginning to adjust to the thick dimness, only to find that he was entirely alone in a small room. It was about the size of a large bathroom, and empty except for a flimsy door with a note plastered on to the face. Behind him was a blank wall, and no sign of the door he'd entered through. Canada wanted to back away, or turn and feel around for the handle he knew was there somewhere. But instead he found himself moving closer to the note. The air seemed to lighten as he neared, but Canada still needed to root through his pockets for his lighter before he could make out the words.

_ You first. Find me, twin.  
But don't stop moving...  
_  
Canada felt a rush of air behind him.  
_  
Or they'll find you._

Canada gasped and spun around as a shadowy hand grabbed his shoulder, only to find the room still empty behind him. His breath came out in short puffs of fear, and he leaned against the nearby wall. _Okay_, he thought, shaky even in his mind. _Okay, just keep moving. Simple.  
_  
He pushed through the door - well more like over it, as it fell at his touch - but a breath of wind at his neck reminded him that he had no time to stop and stare.

Canada stood at the end of a long, pastel red hallway. A fraying but ornately decorated carpet covered the floor, unending although the hallway was extremely long. At the other side it branched off three ways, and, squinting, he could make out a room after that. It seemed to be something  
like a pattern. _So, if I keep to the left, I can't get lost, right?_ he reasoned. He nodded to himself, and set off, trying to force away the deep sense of foreboding that had settled in his chest. Why hadn't he brought Kumadomu...?

The hallways were well lit despite the fact that there was no source of light, but as he passed the first room everything inside was dark and still. Canada swallowed and continued to follow the path of the left wall. Even in the bright light of the hall, shadows pooled in the corners of the floor and ceiling, thick and unnatural, and colored like an old bruise. Canada kept his distance from these as well as he could.

It seemed like ages before he finally came upon the first room in his chosen path. It, too, was dark, but fear couldn't make him hesitate if it was pushing him forward at the same time. The room faded to light as he entered.

Canada gasped, and began to pace so he could take in the room without standing still. It was a single room, but the many objects inside had cut it into segments. All around him were countless racks and dividers, mannequins dotting the room. The clothing they wore wasn't very creative, just different variations of the same shirt or dress in different colors, but based on what Romania had told him about 'Dream-places' or something (it was quite early when he'd mentioned them), distinction made the hallucinations far more difficult to manage.

Satisfied, he returned to the left side of the room and began to follow the walls.

It seemed he'd walked into a clothing store. The place was undeniably creepy, although surely that was what his counterpart had intended in its creation. He noticed that any light seemed to follow him in almost a ring. Eyeing the circle of light, he tried walking slower. It dimmed and began to close in around him. Canada blinked and pushed up his glasses, smiling. He sped up, watching the light increase until it filled nearly half the room. So that's how it worked!

And then he was running. The light was bright, clearing the unnatural shadows from the room - nothing could get him if he just kept -

He grunted as he hit the floor painfully. "M-maple..." he mumbled, picking up the glasses that had fallen from his face. He looked up at the quickly dwindling light and hurried to pick himself up again. He had no time to find what he'd tripped over, apparently, as the circle was once more just a thick layer above his skin. He trudged to a start again... only to feel something jerk him back.

_What the hell?_ Canada looked over his shoulder, but there was no one. He tried to move again, more forceful this time as the shadows closed in at a tauntingly slow pace, but was tugged back another time. Whatever it was was gripping the back of his hoodie. He reached behind him, terror rising in his throat. He felt no flesh there, but cotton. His blood ran cold.

The mannequins.

A blank face stared back at his own, questioningly, as Canada looked wide-eyed over his shoulder. Suddenly his wits returned to him and he began to struggle fiercely. The dummy grabbed the hoodie with the other hand and an inhumanly strong grasp, pulling him closer in hopes of gaining a better hold as the shadows diminished to a thin, shifting film over him. Canada let out a strangled shriek and without a second thought slipped out of the jacket and took off. The mannequins he passed reached out, but thankfully seemed to be confined to their stands, making a grotesque but harmless scene around him. At one point another caught hold of his arm, but he wrenched it free before it could hold him back any longer.

Canada didn't think as he ran, instead allowing his fright to guide him and leaving everything else a blur of speed and adrenaline.

He flew from the clothing store, leaving the mannequins in darkness, but couldn't find it in himself to stop running. He raced through the hallways, past doors, all the while giving a muffled scream through closed lips. As he ran he began to notice white sheets of paper appearing on all the doors, and squinted trying to make them out. Running, he could make out only to first word - _Stop..._

He slowed just enough to read the recurring note as he passed.

They read, simply, '_Stop it!'_

Every cell was buzzing, vibrating. Hysteria was clawing at him almost painfully and he gave a crazed laugh. "How - how the hell can I - stop? You're - you're trying to kill me!" he choked out incredulously. Black ink spread over the pages into more words. **_Stop it!_** Canada only giggled, "Nope!" and took off again. The number of doors thinned and eventually disappeared. The hallways were bright now, the shadows having disappeared with his fast pace, but Canada felt as if his lungs were about to burst. He urged himself on relentlessly, knowing - hoping - this maze had to end somewhere... He turned another corner, and the dead end rose to meet him abruptly.

He crashed into the wall, hardly feeling it for the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was, however, enough to stop him for just a second. He sat up, rubbing his head where it had hit the stone wall, and felt paper come away on his hand. He looked down at the note. _Fine, have it your way_.

He looked behind him, only to see another dead end. There was only one way out, and Canada was sure it hadn't been there before.

Another hallway, in the exact middle of the one he stood in. Canada padded to look down the corridor, and saw firelight flickering at the end. Romania had a fireplace, right? Was this it? Slowly, carefully, he made his way down the hall, breathing still ragged with exertion, orange t-shirt soaked with sweat. He noticed that the pastel red of the walls had turned bright now that he was close to his counterpart, and wished he'd realized the hint earlier, before... Before he'd... gone a bit... crazy. Oops.

But he was here now - that was what mattered. No more maze, no more deadly shadows. Footsteps away from the room, Canada slowed, staring. No more maze... he'd found his 'twin'... was that really such a good thing? And yet he knew the entrance had would have faded behind him by now, so he hardly had a choice in the matter, anyway. His fate was already determined.

Canada took a deep, shuddering breath...

And only realized when the hallway was plunged into darkness that he'd forgotten to move.


	6. Chapter 5

"Maple," was all he had time to whisper before the first shadow raced past him.

He felt its claws whisper past his skin, missing by a hairsbreadth, and lashed out at it. He hit something, but it didn't make a sound and he guessed it had only been the wall. He felt sharp little teeth embed into his outstretched arm, and shook the unseen beast away with a frightened yell.

Flailing his arms to keep the beasts away, Canada broke into a run. The light of the fire was still there, but fragmented by swarming silhouettes. Their bodies looked like streaks of black flame as they circled around him, relishing the darkness and the vulnerability of their prey.

Something took a strong hold of his arm with what felt like teeth and he tried to jerk away, to no avail. "Let go!" he shouted desperately, but as a shadow brushed dangerously close to his mouth, he thought better of opening it again.

Canada struggled forward even as the beasts tangled around his legs, knowing that if he tripped, he would be finished. It seemed he was already wrestling through an unbeatable battle: every time he was able to beat one of the creatures off, it would fall back with an annoyed screech, only to be replaced by another hungry monster. He was surrounded. There was no way he'd make it out alive.

_You first. Find me twin.  
But don't stop moving,  
Or they'll find you._

The words hissed in his mind of their own accord. Somehow he could feel that they weren't his own thoughts.

Well, Hell if he wasn't moving now! But the light refused to return to him, even with his thrashing about, and the words couldn't have been more useless. In a last hopeless attempt to fight them off, Canada pulled the hockey stick from his back and lashed out with it. It worked about as well as the memory of the note, and in his moment of exposure the shadows had managed to force him to his knees.

Why had he been given the memory? His counterpart - no doubt the one that had sent it - must have wanted him alive, or he wouldn't have bothered!

Canada's mind raced: He'd just entered the mansion, everyone was gone, the air had lightened as he neared the note, he'd pulled out his lighter to - his lighter!

He fumbled through his pockets, flicking the switch over and over until the flame burst out and sent the shadows scattering. He was too terrified to smile at his discovery, and instead pulled his hockey stick closer and lit the end. The cloth around the paddle caught fire like a torch, allowing the panting and battered Nation to stand and, with great lurching steps, limp from the bright red hallways, the black silhouettes screaming behind him. He threw the stick to the ground as he walked into the light of the fire and collapsed.

It took a good five minutes for him to feel the breath of another on his cheek. Canada's eyes fluttered open to meet the dark violet eyes only inches away, and he jumped back with a shout of surprise at the same time as the man watching him. Back against the wall, Canada managed to stutter out a whispery, "Wh-who are you?"

The man, still sitting where he'd fallen, broke into a grin, all surprise gone from his face. "I'm Matthew. Who are you?"

"I'm Canada..."

Matthew stood up. Canada decided quickly that this must've been his Parallel, as it looked quite alike to him. Although, he noted, his eyes were slightly darker, and his long hair was tied in a ponytail similar to France's. And... oh, he was dressed kind of strangely, like America when he decided to spend time on one of his farms. Regardless, though, this had to be him. Meanwhile, Matthew seemed to have been observing his Parallel, too.

Canada didn't dare move before his counterpart. Finally, Matthew gave a little giggle. "Francis, look at him! He's kind of cute, isn't he? Not very bright, though." His smile faded. "You ruined my maze, you know. I had so much fun planned for us, but you had to go mess it all up, didn't you?"

Should he apologize? Canada chose to remain silent, and instead allowed his eyes to flicker around the small sitting room. A question bubbled up in his mind, suddenly. "Those - those shadows. In there. What were they?"

"Oh, yeah, those?" Matthew drew himself up proudly. His glasses flashed, something Canada's had never done, ever. "I brought those over from the Otherworld. Shades, they're called, kind of like vicious, flesh-eating bugs. They're a real pest, reproduce like oversexed rabbits. I came here with, what? Like, three?"

"I believe it was about fifty, actually," said a heavily accented voice from across the little room. The chair was turned away from Canada, but the accent left little room for guessing who it was. France's Parallel stood from the chair and stretched, then strode over where Matthew was standing to look at the newcomer. He, too, looked a lot like his Parallel, but he was very greasy - something France would never allow in himself - and seemed a lot more dulled down. His face was covered in gray stubble, eyes a dead blue with dark circles underneath from an excessive smoking habit. He looked so much like France... but if he had seen his former boss diminished to this, Canada knew he couldn't have dealt with it.

"My - my arms," Canada continued, his curiosity temporarily overcoming his fear, "they were, uhm, scratching me, but-"

"They're shadows! Ever been scratched by a shadow? No, they can't leave any marks. They never even touched you, kid. But -" he pulled himself forward onto all fours, tapping his head with a finger - "they can get you in here. That's all. You thought they got you, so you felt it. Funny things, those shadows."

Canada nodded, and the room was silent. Francis shuffled, hands in pockets, and leaned over to whisper in Matthew's ear. "Uh, Mathieu, it's been two hours since they first came. You should get started, no?" His counterpart smiled.

"T-two against one? But that's not fair..." Canada mumbled, wide-eyed.

"No, no, leave me out of this. Mathieu, why not just get it over with?" Francis said, turning back to his area by the fire. He looked back at the other man. "And do not be stupid, _mon petit_."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, old man," Matthew said, rolling his eyes. "But seriously, cute or not, you've gotta go, so..." He held out his hand and Canada's burnt hockey stick flew to it. He snapped it in half multiple times then chucked it into the fire. "Easy way or hard way?"

Canada was a very young Nation, but even Micronations knew that if you were going to fight, you didn't up and tell them you were going to beat them up. Canada jumped up and his knife was in his hand in a flash. He swung at his Parallel almost guiltily, but found his knife slicing through air. "Wha-?"

A fist crashed down on his head and sent him to the ground. He forced himself to roll away before the foot aimed for his face could find its target, and leaped up again. "Hey, _that's_ not fair!" Matthew whined. "And it won't work either. I don't need weapons to kill you!"

He held out his hand, a dark misting ball forming in the palm, and with a flick of his wrist he sent it flying towards Canada. He gasped and jumped out of the way, the dark miasma just grazing his flesh and sending a wave of poisonous pain shooting up his arm. His counterpart smiled, revealing sharply pointed canines, and sent another two clouds his way. The room was small. Canada was panting with the exertion of dodging the clouds of darkness. Meanwhile, Matthew hadn't even moved, and Francis wasn't paying attention to the two in the slightest. "Just give up!" Matthew called finally, annoyance showing in his voice. "I'm going to get you anyway, you bastard! Just _give up_!"

Canada picked up a small wooden side table by the fire and tried to hit back one of the balls, but as it simply went through the table, he threw whole thing at his counterpart instead. With a surprised yelp Matthew was thrown backward, the table catching him square in the chest. He landed near the wall, unmoving. _ Is he... dead?_ Canada stared, padding forward to get a closer look. _At least unconscious, maybe...?_

But no, the Second Persona blinked awake as quickly as he'd fallen, brushing the rubble off of him. "Okay..." He dusted of his glasses. One side of the glass was shattered. "Okay, that's **_it_****!"**

A huge ball of mist was sent flying at Canada, too large to dodge. It passed through him, leaving him both chilled and scorching as it left, and he fell to the ground gasping for breath. "I'm not playing any more, Canada." Another cloud left the young Nation almost immobile as the Parallel went on with a rising inflection of madness to his voice. "First you ruin my maze..." Matthew glared daggers at Canada as a chair faded into view. In it was none other than his own older brother, knocked unconscious, arms tied behind him.

"America...?" Canada breathed. The man smiled wickedly.

"Then you kill my Shades," he went on, another chair appearing holding a familiar Cuban man, also unconscious.

"And then," -his eyes gleamed madly- "you try to send a table through my head!" The last chair that appeared was occupied by an unconscious, all too familiar blonde man. France's head lolled to the side, eyes shut.

"Let them go!" Canada said softly, his voice shaking. He tried to stand, eliciting another ball of energy to come flying at him again. He was sprawled back on the ground in seconds.

"Do you see what happens when you mess with me, twin?" Matthew's image blurred in Canada's eyes, but when three Matthews appeared in its stead he knew it wasn't just the pain making it so. The images went to stand by the chairs, each flicking out knives of their own and holding it to the throats of the Nations. Matthew giggled, and a knife clattered to the ground in front of Canada. "Go ahead, brother, you get one chance. Only one of us is real. Choose wrong, and one of them goes down with you," they all said. "Go on. Choose!"

Canada pulled himself up to sit. "Why are you doing this?" he moaned. "Please, I'll let you have me, just don't hurt them..."

"No, no, I offered to play nice, and you wanted to do it dirty. Your choice, brother, pay the consequences!"

Canada stared at the ground, shaking his head, trying to stop tears from running down his face. He grabbed the knife in his left hand, and looked up at the faces that had grown grotesque in rage. Which one? Which one? They were all exactly the same, not differing by a hair. There was no way of telling which was which... "Come on," the Matthews sang. Their knives were painfully close to the necks of the Nations. "Hurry!"

It all happened in an instant, then - the copies laughed, a knife clattered to the ground, Canada's right hand flashed at his side and suddenly three knives hit the wall, one embedded into the true Matthew's neck. Matthew's mouth gaped in surprise, his fingers dancing around the wound, unsure and terrified. "Matthew!"

Francis, who had been watching the battle with growing unease, finally snapped out of his shock and raced forward to Matthew. "What did I tell you, damn it? What did I tell you?!" He pushed the Parallel's hands away from the wound. "No, _mon trésor_, it'll only make it work faster..."

Canada's stared. The Parallel's were all evil, though, weren't they? That's what Romania had said. Killing machines, born for nothing but death. What was this?

Around them, the hallucinations had begun to fade. The chairs had disappeared. The Nations in them had never been real. The red walls and hallways were fading, too. In the far corner of the room Canada could just make out the mannequins before they faded with the clothing store. The Dreamscape gone, Shades had begun to squeal as the grey light coming from the windows consumed them, leaving nothing but a light black smoke. Suddenly Canada felt quite foolish. And guilty. Oh, God, he felt guilty.

A low wheezing came suddenly from the wall, which was just beginning to fade, too. "Shh, don't strain yourself, Mathieu..."

A blank look had overcome his Parallel. He glanced to Francis, whose eyes had become wet and void of hope. "I'm sorry..." he whispered softly. Then he looked to his counterpart and his gaze hardened. "I hope you're happy," he spat.

In one fluid motion, Matthew grabbed the handle of the knife, threw it to the ground, and he and the rest of the Dreamscape disappeared in a burst of pale red mist. The Parallel Nation was gone, without a trace.

They sat in silence.

Neither looked at each other. Neither cared.

Canada hugged his knees, pretending not to notice the wetness on his face. He'd killed before. As a Nation, he'd had to kill. He'd never come home with the enemy and given their family the news, though. He'd never seen an enemy's family cry because their son or daughter was gone forever. He'd never even considered...

Firelight glowing on his sallow face, Francis stood abruptly and raised his hand parallel to the ground. "Here," he said simply. By the entryway, the rest of the Nations appeared, looking immensely confused. Canada could hear their wondering murmurs, but didn't even look. Instead he watched Francis as he returned to his chair by the fire, facing the Nations. He seemed to be waiting.

"Canadia?" he heard someone shout.

"Dude, what happened?"

"Canada, what's wrong?" France called, noticing his expression. He raced up to the younger Nation. "Canada?"

And suddenly France was supporting the frantic Nation in his arms. Canada shook, trying to take comfort in the familiar smell of his friend, and thankfully finding it. The other Nations surrounded them worriedly, taking no notice of Francis behind them. "Are you okay?" Prussia asked, and France rolled his eyes at the idiotic question.

"Of course he's not okay," he hissed back. Prussia put his hands up in a silent apology.

"I had the strangest dream," France heard Japan murmur suddenly.

"Me, too," said Hungary softly. They both looked from Canada to the ruined sitting area. A Parallel Nation sat in the chair, glaring. "It wasn't a dream, was it?" she whispered. Japan shook his head.

"Are you done yet?" a cold voice called from by the fire. "I'd rather like you all _out_."

"Sorry," mumbled Canada, stepping back and wiping his eyes discreetly. "I'm so sorry..."

The Parallel sighed. "I know," he muttered. "One of you had to die. I know."

"Does this mean-?" France began.

"No." Francis stood up, and looked the Nations up and down. "You and I won't be fighting. My job is done here. I came to watch and make sure my Mathieu didn't get into any trouble. But it seems he finds trouble as often as it searches for him." He looked to the ground. "He had a lot of bad in him. No one could ever see the good, though, could they?"

The Nations were silent. "I'm sorry," France repeated.

"That's okay. The bad are doomed to die. And everyone's bad - especially all of you!" He coughed a laugh. "You'll get yours!"

Canada stepped away from France, then, one step closer to Francis. The Parallel gave him a quizzical look. "What?" he said blankly.

"I'm sorry, but-"

"_Mon dieu_, stop apologizing!"

"Sorry - I mean - right." Canada sighed awkwardly. "Where do you... What do Parallel's come from? Why are you... you?"

"How easily my Mathieu is forgotten..." Francis murmured. The Canadian Nation opened his mouth to apologize again, but he was quickly cut off. "We Parallels live in a place called the Otherworld. There is no concept of order in this place. Wars are constant and bloody, children die before their first year. When death comes to a man in the Otherworld, he hopes for a Hell better than the one he lives in. The Parallels covet your world, where there is still destruction to be had. How many wars have you fought? Fifty? Less? You are blessed.

"But why we are as we are... Well, your lives are influenced by your decisions, are they not? At one point, the lowest point of your life, you were given an important decision. It differs for all of you, though you can probably guess what it is."

"Do you know what the choices are?" France ventured.

"Of course. We are born from them. With this choice you decided who you would be, where your life would go. As we are Parallels, we are what could have been. We are... for many, the 'wrong' decision. Do you understand?"

France nodded. "You must know then..." he said softly. "When did I bring you into existence?"

The Parallel gave a somber smile. "When you decided that you would love again, twin, I was born knowing I never would."

Her name was on his lips. He couldn't hold back the almost imperceptible whisper. "_Joan..."_

It could have only been a thought, or maybe he had said it. All France knew was that, eyes connecting with his counterpart's, there was someone who understood.

"Now. You've killed my closest friend. If you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone."

"But, wait-"

"GO!"

Suddenly everything the Parallel Nation had been holding back burst through. Japan, who had spoken last, looked taken aback as tears began to poor down the man's face. "Come on," Hungary murmured, and the rest of the Nations followed her quickly to the nearest doorway. As the rest disappeared through an oaken door to the next dark hall, France lagged behind.

He watched Francis stifle his sobs for just a moment. He walked to where Matthew had disappeared and picked up the knife he'd offered Canada a million years ago, and, with a strangled shout, flung it into the fire. His counterpart collapsed into the nearest chair, tears running down his face, watching it burn until only the charred metal remained.

Without another word, the country of love turned away from one who never would. He disappeared into the dark hallway.


End file.
